


Overflow

by Misty_Reeyus



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: F/M, First Time, PWP, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 07:24:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10589217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misty_Reeyus/pseuds/Misty_Reeyus
Summary: So it’s not flawless. But really, Eleanor would have been a fool if she’d expected perfection in the first place.





	

**Author's Note:**

> minific prompt #9: things you said when i was crying

Eleanor definitely wouldn’t call this a flawless first time.

Not that she wasn’t prepared. Eleanor has been getting ready for this ever since that day some weeks ago when a heated makeout session turned into grinding up against each other. When, as Rokurou fondled her breasts through her clothes and she cupped her hand over the growing bulge in his pants, she realized it was only a matter of time before they actually went all the way. But no matter how much research Eleanor did since then, no matter how well she stocked her bags with equipment that was honestly rather embarrassing to procure, it couldn’t change the fact that she’s never gone this far with anyone before.

Eleanor has no idea what she’s doing, and though Rokurou evidently has _some_ sort of previous experience under his belt, he’s no more knowledgeable than her in regards to safer sex practices. They went through three condoms before they finally got one on in a state that Eleanor was reasonably sure was correct (after the second one, Eleanor had to pump him in her hand again to get him back to fully hard). And by that point, the anticipation was so overwhelming that impassioned fervor nearly took control of them both before Rokurou abruptly remembered out loud, _oh, yeah, that lube bottle’s there for a reason_.

So it’s not flawless. But really, Eleanor would have been a fool if she’d expected perfection in the first place.

As is, she doesn’t much give a damn.

Right now, ecstasy overrides everything else. It clouds out her every thought and every care, except for the fact that Rokurou is atop her body and plunging inside her, over and over again in steady rhythm. He’s filling her up, stretching her out, and guttural noises are spewing from her lips because oh, he’s big, and _oh_ , she’s clenching so tight around him. Friction rubs hot against her walls, and it doesn’t hurt—he’s being swift but mindful, and she’s too high above the world for any pain to register in her hazed-over mind—but even so, it’s still _so much_ …

“Hey, w-woah! You okay?”

Rokurou abruptly stops mid-thrust as the words tumble from his lips, and Eleanor lets out a very put-out whine before she realizes just how watery it feels in her throat, how choked up it sounds to her ears. She blinks and an unmistakable bead of liquid drips down the side of her face, following a path she hadn’t even realized was there, lingering and pooling in the crevice of her ear before finally seeping into the pillow.

Oh wow. She’s actually crying.

Rokurou looks like he doesn’t know what to make of that, his eyes wide and his lips furrowed with concern. “Crap,” he gasps. “Crap, Eleanor, should I stop?”

That’s actually so sweet that it makes Eleanor tear up again—so before that can get Rokurou even more worried, she vigorously shakes her head.

“No!” Eleanor yelps, instantly wiping at her eyes. “No, Rokurou, I’m crying because it’s good!” She meets his gaze ardently, letting her own desperation seep into her voice. “Don’t stop, _please_ don’t stop!”

In an instant, tension visibly drains from Rokurou’s shoulders, and he dips his head down, peppering kisses along the tear tracks staining the side of her face. “If it becomes too much, just tell me.”

“I will,” Eleanor hisses, impatient, and pointedly rolls her hips up into his. “Rokurou, _hurry_!”

Thankfully, he needs no further prompting.

Rokurou slides out partway to jam right back into her again, and the cry that bursts from her only rises in pitch and volume when his thumb also finds her clit. Gods, Eleanor’s done that to herself before, but she never knew that it could feel like _this_. That there could be such sheer heat, that the touch of another could be so utterly _intoxicating_.

His thumb presses circles into the sensitive nub while he angles himself further, pistons out before slamming even deeper in—and that’s what finally sends the dam crumbling down. When Eleanor spills over, it strikes her all the way to her core, the mere force of her release sending tremors all down her spine, the burning in her crotch shooting her straight into subspace. Her eyes squeeze shut and she can tell she’s crying again, but this time Rokurou doesn’t even hesitate, delivering one last thrust before _twitching_ inside her and following her example.

Rokurou’s yell rings out, wild and unrestrained, mingling with her own screams as he comes. He just about collapses atop her, the strong arms that were supporting his weight giving way, until his chest is flush against her and his sweat-soaked skin is sliding over hers. Eleanor can’t bring herself to mind, at first, but once the high tempers out and clarity returns to her mind, she bites her lip and gently pushes at his shoulder.

“Rokurou,” she mumbles breathlessly, “p-pull out.”

Rokurou pushes himself up, squinting his eyes confusedly before understanding abruptly dawns, and Eleanor doesn’t even have the chance to collect herself before he’s already taking action. Straightening back up, he swiftly slips out of her and then pulls off the condom, tying it off at the end with surprising efficiency. He reaches out to the bedside table to drop the slimy package atop it, and Eleanor’s probably going to have to clean that up later, but right now, she doesn’t much care. Not when Rokurou’s diving right in to plant his lips to hers.

Even as he’s all sweaty and salty from sex, lingering behind all of that, there still manages to be a slight trace of that oh-so-familiar sugar taste on his lips. Eleanor relishes it, giggling slightly into his mouth; he really is sweet, in more ways than one.

Rokurou pulls back from the kiss soon after, his hand coming up to cup at her cheek, his thumb wiping at her eyelid where there’s still some traces of tears. Eleanor places her own hand over his, grinning in silent assurance that they’re good tears. Happy tears.

“You alright?” Rokurou asks anyway.

“Better than alright,” Eleanor promises, and gently squeezes his fingers inbetween hers. “That was incredible, Rokurou.”

Rokurou smirks then, sliding his hand out from under hers, angling his head and inching forward until his nose is buried in the crook of her shoulder. “Good to hear,” he whispers into her flesh, lips fluttering against her pulse before he bites down. He starts sucking at the spot, clearly intent on leaving a bruise—and Eleanor half-laughs, half-moans before throwing her head back in invitation.

She’s only all too happy to let him make his mark.


End file.
